Last Thursday I went to the sequel to "Flying: Confessions of a Free Woman." Something had changed since the first piece. In Part I, our heroine was on a quest to find out how other women around the globe handled their femininity in their cultures. She traveled to Germany, South Africa, Pakistan, several places around the U.S. to discuss women's issues with her friends all around the world.
But in Part II, within the first thirty minutes of the film, our star began to sound whiny, co-dependent, and rather than to listen to what the women she was interviewing were telling her, she was moaning about her own life.
Her first visit was to a Russian woman's home whom she had befriended over the internet. It was clear that within a few days at this new friend's home she was such a downer, the new friend was doing whatever it took to encourge her to move on, move on with her life and move on from her home! The Russian host all but bought her a plane ticket to go visit her boyfriend in Zurich and even drove her to the airport personally.
She visited some Somalian women in England who taught her about "female circumcision" as they called it. They launched into full details about their experiences as young girls, how they felt about the tradition then and how they feel now and how it's changed their lives. They discussed their sexuality and their culture and their purpose in the world today.
The director then took us back to South Africa, to her friend's home in the mid-western United States who has been struggling as a single mom, and to various friend's homes in and around NYC.
Each woman had her story, her struggles, and often from a culture that we Americans find difficult to relate to .
The recurring theme, however, was how the leading lady, the successful New York City film director Jennifer Fox, was struggling to have a baby at 44 years old. She'd already had two miscarriages, she was attempting the expensive IVF process, she was struggling with her Swiss boyfriend and her South African lover. She breaks up with the boyfriend to be with the lover (he finally leaves his wife), but then that doesn't actually work out ...surprise surprise. So then she is entirely manless. Sigh.
When my friend and I left the theater that night, we were a little disappointed and felt Jennifer missed the mark. Here women all over the world were really struggling. Their cultures often suppress them, they remain uneducated, abused or they simply just don't have choices. They would have given their left arm to have her life and yet all she could do was complain.
I was thinking about my own life. Eh hem. Right. I know I do tend to drone on about my petty issues: the lack of decent men in my life, my crap paying job, the Prozac and St John's wort inducing weather in this town, my tiny one bedroom apartment and transportationally challenged lifestyle. But the fact is, I wouldn't trade my life for a second (well, I might trade a few pieces...but not the whole thing!). I have chosen the way I live, which is one huge difference. I've had the nice home, the husband, the decent paying job, car, ski condo and Ann Taylor wardrobe. I walked away from it on my own two feet (heh heh...quite literally...as I'm still walking..to the bus stop in the rain!). And I'm happy with my choices. I'm happy I had the choices. I'm happy I still have choices, whether I choose to make them or choose to stay put. It's my choice.
After some discussions with my women friends these past few days, I'm convinced it is better to have the choices and be a little confused sometimes about making the "right" choice, than not to have choices at all.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
Coupling
I realize the biblical, historical, traditional and economical situations of the past resulted in the need for 'coupling.' But why is so much focus placed on being a 'couple' in today's modern world? In the past coupling was a business transaction, between families. Fathers negotiated over their children when they were still small as a matter of what...and who...would make the most business sense.
Today coupling is still big business. How many 'mate finding' services are out there these days? Hundreds? Thousands? Match.com, Yahoo.com, Cupid.com, eHarmony.com, It's Just Lunch, Speed Dating, Blind Dating, Singles Mixers, Events and Adventures. The list goes on.
eHarmony advertises their success rate at not just finding you a partner, but finding you a spouse. Match.com promises that if you don't find someone 'special' within six months, they will give you six months free. After six months of that brutal process, why would I want to continue the same exact process for another six months. Most people I know move on and try different avenues after six months of grueling dates.
Yes, I've attempted all the traditional and 21st century dating methods...and I continue to date anyway. Last week I had a blind date. It was a set up by a woman friend I met at a singles mixer. Only I would go to a singles mixer to meet men and come away with yet more women friends! Anyway, this friend wanted to set me up with her good friend and I said "sure, why not." After I agreed, she sent me his photograph. Ummm, okay kind of too late to back out at this point. And it'd be rude. I mean not everyone takes the best photos. I, for one, do not photograph well, and my friends would agree.
The date was typical. We meet, have a nice conversation over dinner, I don't feel any physical attraction to Mr. BD (Blind Date) whatsoever, I pay my half of the meal, he does not offer to drive me home, and he wants to see me again. sigh. When does this cycle end? And what is wrong with men in this town? Does anyone out there date a man with manners?
Last night #8 (yeah, he's still in the picture although more on the edges...the mat really) had me over to his house for a homemade Italian dinner. The meal was great, he served wine rather than milk or water for a change, we watched a movie, had fantastic sex in the middle of the film, finished the movie and then he sent me out the door to catch my bus at 10.30 p.m. Now I wasn't even suggesting he drive me home. As a matter of fact, I told him I would catch the bus. But doesn't it seem polite to at least walk a girl to the bus stop four blocks away and wait til she got safely on the the bus? I mean, I walked my gal pal to the bus the other night as she didn't live in my neighborhood and it was late at night. What's wrong with this (and most) men? I honestly do not get it. It must be me. Part of the problem is I won't ask a guy to do these favors. I expect them to just know how to behave. Then they don't pass the test because they are simpletons and I get annoyed.
Coupling. Yeah. I need to just date for the sake of dating...or rather for the 'sex of dating'. And continue living my quite exciting, free, and pretty fulfilling single life.
Today coupling is still big business. How many 'mate finding' services are out there these days? Hundreds? Thousands? Match.com, Yahoo.com, Cupid.com, eHarmony.com, It's Just Lunch, Speed Dating, Blind Dating, Singles Mixers, Events and Adventures. The list goes on.
eHarmony advertises their success rate at not just finding you a partner, but finding you a spouse. Match.com promises that if you don't find someone 'special' within six months, they will give you six months free. After six months of that brutal process, why would I want to continue the same exact process for another six months. Most people I know move on and try different avenues after six months of grueling dates.
Yes, I've attempted all the traditional and 21st century dating methods...and I continue to date anyway. Last week I had a blind date. It was a set up by a woman friend I met at a singles mixer. Only I would go to a singles mixer to meet men and come away with yet more women friends! Anyway, this friend wanted to set me up with her good friend and I said "sure, why not." After I agreed, she sent me his photograph. Ummm, okay kind of too late to back out at this point. And it'd be rude. I mean not everyone takes the best photos. I, for one, do not photograph well, and my friends would agree.
The date was typical. We meet, have a nice conversation over dinner, I don't feel any physical attraction to Mr. BD (Blind Date) whatsoever, I pay my half of the meal, he does not offer to drive me home, and he wants to see me again. sigh. When does this cycle end? And what is wrong with men in this town? Does anyone out there date a man with manners?
Last night #8 (yeah, he's still in the picture although more on the edges...the mat really) had me over to his house for a homemade Italian dinner. The meal was great, he served wine rather than milk or water for a change, we watched a movie, had fantastic sex in the middle of the film, finished the movie and then he sent me out the door to catch my bus at 10.30 p.m. Now I wasn't even suggesting he drive me home. As a matter of fact, I told him I would catch the bus. But doesn't it seem polite to at least walk a girl to the bus stop four blocks away and wait til she got safely on the the bus? I mean, I walked my gal pal to the bus the other night as she didn't live in my neighborhood and it was late at night. What's wrong with this (and most) men? I honestly do not get it. It must be me. Part of the problem is I won't ask a guy to do these favors. I expect them to just know how to behave. Then they don't pass the test because they are simpletons and I get annoyed.
Coupling. Yeah. I need to just date for the sake of dating...or rather for the 'sex of dating'. And continue living my quite exciting, free, and pretty fulfilling single life.
Saturday, April 5, 2008
Freedom to Fly
Part (a big part) of what makes my life transitioning so challenging is the amount of freedom I'm given. I spent most of my life growing up wanting and expecting to have lots of choices and doing what I choose. On the flip side of this desire is my severe lack of decision making abilities. I can't make a decision to save my life. When ordering a meal at a restaurant (and my friends can attest to this), I have to know what everyone else at the table is having before I can make my choice. I don't particularly enjoy shopping, usually because I can't make a decision about a purchase.
When I do finally make a decision, I often bring the item home and try it on a million times staring at myself in the mirror, checking to see if it works with my wardrobe, my lifestyle, fretting over whatever I paid.
For example, I have a pair of sandals I bought on February 23 that are still in their box, in the original bag with the receipt because I'm still not 100% sure if I want to keep them. I've had them a month and I'm still not sure? Hmmm, maybe that is why I was with my husband for 18 years before divorcing him? I was just trying him on....for a really long-ass time. Turned out, he really wasn't a fit after all.
Last night I went to the film "Flying: Confessions of a Free Woman" directed by Jennifer Fox. This is a story about a 40(ish), single, successful woman (specifically, Jennifer) trying to figure out what she truly wants in life. The story is filmed in what felt to me like an almost documentary/reality TV style format. At first I wasn't sure if it was working for me. It wasn't long, however, before I was completely drawn into the story, the characters, the issues discussed. The biggest issue being that women all over the world are very much alike.
The heroine travels all over the world visiting girlfriends to discuss her life dilemma of wanting a child, not necessarily wanting a husband, wanting a man she can't have, having a man she doesn't necessary want 100% of the time, wanting her career, and yet, wanting a change of life. It's a common dilemma for many women. We, in America, are fortunate enough to have the choices we have. To be able to do whatever we put our minds and energy into. The film reminds us that isn't the case worldwide. In most un/underdeveloped countries women are resigned to the cards they are dealt. Being a woman means something entirely different in their countries than it does in ours.
The unfortunate piece of our scenario as American women is that we have so many choices and opportunities, we don't always know what we really want. Therefore, we don't always know how to go about getting what will make us the happiest. At one point in the film the heroine says " I want to change my life. I'm not sure in what way, but I know I want a change." And there in lies the problem for many of us attempting transitions. We don't know what we're evolving into. So until it's clarified, we spin in circles, talking to our friends, traveling the world, looking for answers, and for some of us, changing jobs every six months!
This film is a two part series, each part is approximately three hours long. I'm not a fan of super long films, but this one actually got my attention. After the viewing last night, my girlfriend and I went for a drink and late night snack and chatted about the film, the women from all over the world, the main character and our own situations. We're now deeply drawn into the story and simply must see how it ends.
"Flying" is playing at the Seattle International Film Festival Cinema at Seattle Center through April 10th. If you're a woman in transition, a woman who's gone through a life questioning phase, a woman, or you know a woman, you might just enjoy this film!
When I do finally make a decision, I often bring the item home and try it on a million times staring at myself in the mirror, checking to see if it works with my wardrobe, my lifestyle, fretting over whatever I paid.
For example, I have a pair of sandals I bought on February 23 that are still in their box, in the original bag with the receipt because I'm still not 100% sure if I want to keep them. I've had them a month and I'm still not sure? Hmmm, maybe that is why I was with my husband for 18 years before divorcing him? I was just trying him on....for a really long-ass time. Turned out, he really wasn't a fit after all.
Last night I went to the film "Flying: Confessions of a Free Woman" directed by Jennifer Fox. This is a story about a 40(ish), single, successful woman (specifically, Jennifer) trying to figure out what she truly wants in life. The story is filmed in what felt to me like an almost documentary/reality TV style format. At first I wasn't sure if it was working for me. It wasn't long, however, before I was completely drawn into the story, the characters, the issues discussed. The biggest issue being that women all over the world are very much alike.
The heroine travels all over the world visiting girlfriends to discuss her life dilemma of wanting a child, not necessarily wanting a husband, wanting a man she can't have, having a man she doesn't necessary want 100% of the time, wanting her career, and yet, wanting a change of life. It's a common dilemma for many women. We, in America, are fortunate enough to have the choices we have. To be able to do whatever we put our minds and energy into. The film reminds us that isn't the case worldwide. In most un/underdeveloped countries women are resigned to the cards they are dealt. Being a woman means something entirely different in their countries than it does in ours.
The unfortunate piece of our scenario as American women is that we have so many choices and opportunities, we don't always know what we really want. Therefore, we don't always know how to go about getting what will make us the happiest. At one point in the film the heroine says " I want to change my life. I'm not sure in what way, but I know I want a change." And there in lies the problem for many of us attempting transitions. We don't know what we're evolving into. So until it's clarified, we spin in circles, talking to our friends, traveling the world, looking for answers, and for some of us, changing jobs every six months!
This film is a two part series, each part is approximately three hours long. I'm not a fan of super long films, but this one actually got my attention. After the viewing last night, my girlfriend and I went for a drink and late night snack and chatted about the film, the women from all over the world, the main character and our own situations. We're now deeply drawn into the story and simply must see how it ends.
"Flying" is playing at the Seattle International Film Festival Cinema at Seattle Center through April 10th. If you're a woman in transition, a woman who's gone through a life questioning phase, a woman, or you know a woman, you might just enjoy this film!
Sunday, March 30, 2008
What Do We Do?
Within the last couple of days, at least three women friends have expressed their dating frustrations.
"What are we doing wrong?" they ask. A question I ask myself regularly.
Upon reflection and discussion with other single (and fabulous) women, clearly we aren't doing anything wrong. It's my theory that women have evolved into these even more amazing creatures over the last few decades and men, frankly, aren't sure what to make of us.
Women have become more independent than ever, earning good salaries, obtaining PhD's, owing their own homes, nice cars (okay, so maybe this woman doesn't fit any of the posted criteria...but many do!). We'll dine alone, travel solo, do our own home repairs (our hire someone to do them for us). For the most part we're physically fit, financially fit, and fairly successful. I think men could be just slightly intimidate. Okay, so no man is intimidated by my "financial fitness"-- of course not. Rather, my financial situation has men running in the opposite direction. But I'm not just talking about ME here. I'm talking about single women as a whole.
A couple years ago, the fireman I was dating said to me during one of our final conversations, "men just want to be needed." Aahhh, I wasn't providing this guy with the opportunity to be my "hero." Clearly, given his profession, that was an important role for him to play in his relationships with women, as well as, his work. I was not the girl for him.
Number Eight's ex-wife turned out to be clinically diagnosed with a mental disorder. She refused to get help and he tried to work with it for seven years before giving up and filing for divorce. He then told me his last serious girlfriend, for whom he had been shopping for rings, also had a problem with depression. One of his closest female friends, is an alcoholic and until recently was without any positive direction. Apparently, he has an attraction to women with emotional/mental disorders who he might be able to 'help'? Being pretty emotionally balanced and happy (I know I know, sometimes you'd wonder) I am, again, not that girl.
A discussion with one of my single pals over cocktails the other night revealed that it wasn't enough for men to just be "wanted" by women. By only being wanted and not actually needed, there's too great a risk of being "unwanted" one day. We may decide to just discard them like a pair of outdated shoes or a dress that no longer fits like it used to. The "need" factor guarantees you'll stick around. You need his money, his house, his 'handyman' abilities. Something to keep him in control of the relationship. Within my circle of friends, no one has such a need. Other than the physical need, women just don't need men in the same way that we used to. We're really just looking for someone we want, who wants us in return.
Unfortunately, all this need vs want business is causing men to become more confused and then their resulting behavior becomes confusing to women. It's a vicious cycle. I, for one, do not intend to pose as a weak, needy damsel (alright, technically I'm too old to be a 'damsel') in distress. And I don't know any woman who does.
So what's the answer to the "What are we doing wrong?" question? Nothing. Just keep doing what we're doing and have fun doing it! The right guy will trip along eventually. I'm pretty sure of it.
end note: There isn't anything wrong with "needing" someone, by the way.
"What are we doing wrong?" they ask. A question I ask myself regularly.
Upon reflection and discussion with other single (and fabulous) women, clearly we aren't doing anything wrong. It's my theory that women have evolved into these even more amazing creatures over the last few decades and men, frankly, aren't sure what to make of us.
Women have become more independent than ever, earning good salaries, obtaining PhD's, owing their own homes, nice cars (okay, so maybe this woman doesn't fit any of the posted criteria...but many do!). We'll dine alone, travel solo, do our own home repairs (our hire someone to do them for us). For the most part we're physically fit, financially fit, and fairly successful. I think men could be just slightly intimidate. Okay, so no man is intimidated by my "financial fitness"-- of course not. Rather, my financial situation has men running in the opposite direction. But I'm not just talking about ME here. I'm talking about single women as a whole.
A couple years ago, the fireman I was dating said to me during one of our final conversations, "men just want to be needed." Aahhh, I wasn't providing this guy with the opportunity to be my "hero." Clearly, given his profession, that was an important role for him to play in his relationships with women, as well as, his work. I was not the girl for him.
Number Eight's ex-wife turned out to be clinically diagnosed with a mental disorder. She refused to get help and he tried to work with it for seven years before giving up and filing for divorce. He then told me his last serious girlfriend, for whom he had been shopping for rings, also had a problem with depression. One of his closest female friends, is an alcoholic and until recently was without any positive direction. Apparently, he has an attraction to women with emotional/mental disorders who he might be able to 'help'? Being pretty emotionally balanced and happy (I know I know, sometimes you'd wonder) I am, again, not that girl.
A discussion with one of my single pals over cocktails the other night revealed that it wasn't enough for men to just be "wanted" by women. By only being wanted and not actually needed, there's too great a risk of being "unwanted" one day. We may decide to just discard them like a pair of outdated shoes or a dress that no longer fits like it used to. The "need" factor guarantees you'll stick around. You need his money, his house, his 'handyman' abilities. Something to keep him in control of the relationship. Within my circle of friends, no one has such a need. Other than the physical need, women just don't need men in the same way that we used to. We're really just looking for someone we want, who wants us in return.
Unfortunately, all this need vs want business is causing men to become more confused and then their resulting behavior becomes confusing to women. It's a vicious cycle. I, for one, do not intend to pose as a weak, needy damsel (alright, technically I'm too old to be a 'damsel') in distress. And I don't know any woman who does.
So what's the answer to the "What are we doing wrong?" question? Nothing. Just keep doing what we're doing and have fun doing it! The right guy will trip along eventually. I'm pretty sure of it.
end note: There isn't anything wrong with "needing" someone, by the way.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
What's Behind Door #?
They say when one door closes, another one opens. I hope that is true as door #8 is being shut in my face.
I swear the last three guys I dated did the "just stop calling" routine. WTF? Why is that acceptable after dating several months? It's acceptable after one or two dates, sure. But five months? Not acceptable grown up behavior. I suppose that is the only way men feel they can get rid of me. I am not a fighter, so there is no chance of an argument ensuing where we can have a break up with exchange of heated words and insults. Confrontation is difficult so actually saying to my face that we need to wrap this up just isn't an option apparently. So if they just stop calling, they can hope I'll eventually get the hint and leave them alone.
I do have a great life...wonderful friends and can do pretty much what I please without answering to anyone. Why can't that be fulfilling enough? Why must I need the physical affection from a man thing? Well, cause that's how nature made us I guess. There's really only so much you can get from a battery operated toy. sigh.
In the April edition of "SeattleWoman" magazine, there is an article about girlfriend getaways. For the past five years that is all I've had -- girlfriend getaways (besides the mini-weekend to Whidbey Island in December with #8- which was wonderful, by the way). Getting away with my girlfriends is most definitely one of my favorite things to do. Frankly, however, I'm ready to spend some time having an actual romance in all the romantic places I've been the last five years.
Don't get me wrong. I have enjoyed every minute of Paris, Venice, Prague, the Greek Islands, beaches along the Adriatic and Mediterranean Seas, the Caribbean, and Mexico. These places are spectacular no matter what. And there is nothing less romantic than being in a romantic place with the wrong man. I've experienced that scenario as well.
So #8 got me through the winter months, I suppose, and spring is about here. And I'll see what's behind the next door and plan a trip...with or without anyone else, man or woman.
I swear the last three guys I dated did the "just stop calling" routine. WTF? Why is that acceptable after dating several months? It's acceptable after one or two dates, sure. But five months? Not acceptable grown up behavior. I suppose that is the only way men feel they can get rid of me. I am not a fighter, so there is no chance of an argument ensuing where we can have a break up with exchange of heated words and insults. Confrontation is difficult so actually saying to my face that we need to wrap this up just isn't an option apparently. So if they just stop calling, they can hope I'll eventually get the hint and leave them alone.
I do have a great life...wonderful friends and can do pretty much what I please without answering to anyone. Why can't that be fulfilling enough? Why must I need the physical affection from a man thing? Well, cause that's how nature made us I guess. There's really only so much you can get from a battery operated toy. sigh.
In the April edition of "SeattleWoman" magazine, there is an article about girlfriend getaways. For the past five years that is all I've had -- girlfriend getaways (besides the mini-weekend to Whidbey Island in December with #8- which was wonderful, by the way). Getting away with my girlfriends is most definitely one of my favorite things to do. Frankly, however, I'm ready to spend some time having an actual romance in all the romantic places I've been the last five years.
Don't get me wrong. I have enjoyed every minute of Paris, Venice, Prague, the Greek Islands, beaches along the Adriatic and Mediterranean Seas, the Caribbean, and Mexico. These places are spectacular no matter what. And there is nothing less romantic than being in a romantic place with the wrong man. I've experienced that scenario as well.
So #8 got me through the winter months, I suppose, and spring is about here. And I'll see what's behind the next door and plan a trip...with or without anyone else, man or woman.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Small Changes
If I can't make any huge life changes just yet, maybe several simple small changes will satisfy my urges. The other day I was getting ready to meet a friend for a drink when I discovered some old navel rings I had. I hadn't changed my ring in months, maybe even over a year. You get the thing. It's all exciting. Soon (12 years later) it gets buried in there somewhere and you forget you even have it. I decide that needs to be done. Now! So off with the current one. Easy enough. And on with the new installation. Not so quick and easy.
I hadn't done it for a while and was struggling frantically working myself up into a lather. You know how tiny those balls are and then trying to get it exactly centered onto the post and screwed in! My nails, which are on the longish side, kept getting in the way. I was also working against my belly fat and I couldn't see very well over my boobs !!! Ugh...my friend was on her way over and would arrive any minute. The more I tried to hurry the worse the situation became. Why did I have to get into this little project just now? Not as if I'm heading out on the town in a mid-drift top or bikini for crying out loud. I was afraid I was going to have to ask her to be a pal and do it for me! Cripes. Just what I want, my skinny little friend digging around my gut attempting navel ring installation. The scene in my head made me more determined to get the bloody thing screwed in! I finally got it in by lying on the bed and stretching myself all out, but was all exhausted and sweaty from the process!
When I was done, I took a look in the mirror. Hmmm...I don't like this one so much, which is why I hadn't worn it for some time. It'll have to stay put for a while. I'm not up for the challenge of changing it again just yet. Small changes one small step at a time.
I hadn't done it for a while and was struggling frantically working myself up into a lather. You know how tiny those balls are and then trying to get it exactly centered onto the post and screwed in! My nails, which are on the longish side, kept getting in the way. I was also working against my belly fat and I couldn't see very well over my boobs !!! Ugh...my friend was on her way over and would arrive any minute. The more I tried to hurry the worse the situation became. Why did I have to get into this little project just now? Not as if I'm heading out on the town in a mid-drift top or bikini for crying out loud. I was afraid I was going to have to ask her to be a pal and do it for me! Cripes. Just what I want, my skinny little friend digging around my gut attempting navel ring installation. The scene in my head made me more determined to get the bloody thing screwed in! I finally got it in by lying on the bed and stretching myself all out, but was all exhausted and sweaty from the process!
When I was done, I took a look in the mirror. Hmmm...I don't like this one so much, which is why I hadn't worn it for some time. It'll have to stay put for a while. I'm not up for the challenge of changing it again just yet. Small changes one small step at a time.
Monday, March 24, 2008
Going Nowhere for the Moment
Does anyone else dwell on their lifestyle, career, and love life (or lack thereof) as much as I do? I doubt it. I wonder why I am still living in Seattle when I continue to say I want to leave and live somewhere else? What is keeping me here?
I am in an ongoing go nowhere type of relationship that is on the down slide as I think my ongoing go nowhere #8 is getting bored with me and my constant desire for sex (imagine that?). I'm a bit bummed as it's been nice to just date someone semi-regularly for awhile. But how long is an ongoing go nowhere relationship suppose to last anyway? It's got to end eventually I guess.
I do have my eye on a cutie pie waiter at a place my boss and I go to lunch occasionally. He's probably all of 25. Why would anyone older be a lunch waiter at a place called Fat Albert's? Unless, he's really a former IT professional and, like myself, is in his mid-life transitional phase and is actually an aspiring artist waiting for his big break. I can buy that.
I'm in a go nowhere low paying job. The work is interesting (programing and development of inter-cultural educational and training projects), but I can see in just five months it's fairly repetitive with little opportunity for...well...any real opportunities. It just isn't providing what I was hoping in the way of either travel or training ops. The organization is so small that neither pay nor benefits are available either. I've been keeping my eye out, but will have to begin a more active pursuit for career change.
My lifestyle. I am fairly successful at getting around Seattle sans car, but some days are frustrating, trudging around in the pissing rain, missing buses by nanoseconds, and getting out of town is impossible. The last two charming little bungalows in lower Queen Anne were leveled recently and a new condo will be constructed - directly outside my balcony. I LOVE sitting out on my balcony during the summer enjoying the sunshine, view and quiet. Hmmm....the rent just went up and so will the noise and dust factor.
Now, although my whining seems to never cease, I do, in fact, try to live for the moment. If anyone could have seen the view of the skyline last night from my living room window they would probably understand why I'm still here. The huge golden (almost full) moon rose up behind the Space Needle providing a scene that was surreal. I couldn't take my eyes off of it for the longest time. I wanted to call someone to share the moment. But there was no one to call. So I just shared it with myself...and enjoyed every minute of it.
I am in an ongoing go nowhere type of relationship that is on the down slide as I think my ongoing go nowhere #8 is getting bored with me and my constant desire for sex (imagine that?). I'm a bit bummed as it's been nice to just date someone semi-regularly for awhile. But how long is an ongoing go nowhere relationship suppose to last anyway? It's got to end eventually I guess.
I do have my eye on a cutie pie waiter at a place my boss and I go to lunch occasionally. He's probably all of 25. Why would anyone older be a lunch waiter at a place called Fat Albert's? Unless, he's really a former IT professional and, like myself, is in his mid-life transitional phase and is actually an aspiring artist waiting for his big break. I can buy that.
I'm in a go nowhere low paying job. The work is interesting (programing and development of inter-cultural educational and training projects), but I can see in just five months it's fairly repetitive with little opportunity for...well...any real opportunities. It just isn't providing what I was hoping in the way of either travel or training ops. The organization is so small that neither pay nor benefits are available either. I've been keeping my eye out, but will have to begin a more active pursuit for career change.
My lifestyle. I am fairly successful at getting around Seattle sans car, but some days are frustrating, trudging around in the pissing rain, missing buses by nanoseconds, and getting out of town is impossible. The last two charming little bungalows in lower Queen Anne were leveled recently and a new condo will be constructed - directly outside my balcony. I LOVE sitting out on my balcony during the summer enjoying the sunshine, view and quiet. Hmmm....the rent just went up and so will the noise and dust factor.
Now, although my whining seems to never cease, I do, in fact, try to live for the moment. If anyone could have seen the view of the skyline last night from my living room window they would probably understand why I'm still here. The huge golden (almost full) moon rose up behind the Space Needle providing a scene that was surreal. I couldn't take my eyes off of it for the longest time. I wanted to call someone to share the moment. But there was no one to call. So I just shared it with myself...and enjoyed every minute of it.
Monday, March 17, 2008
To Cruise or Not to Cruise?
Of course the cruise was a luxurious pampering experience fully equipped with all the excess imaginable. A room steward who was lurking nearby for even the slightest need, bar service at your every turn, enough food to feed the entire world...twice, every kind of entertainment, service and even perfect weather. Would I do it again? Sure...eventually...and if someone else was paying for it, definitely. Although I loved spending a week in the tropics with fun women friends, and relaxing on a sun lounger imbibing on a fruity cocktail with umbrella decor, my opinion remains the same about cruising. It's really not my favorite form of vacationing.
The food was as incredible as I feared. I started out slow, making wiser food choices eating salads and fresh fruit as much as possible. At dinner (the formal affairs) I only had the 'spa' (healthy choice) starter of iceberg wedge and tomato, an entree of grilled perch, one glass of red wine and coffee for dessert (that right there is far more than my normal dinner at home). I then upped the anty to the regular starter, a 'spa' starter, entree, wine, 'diet' dessert and coffee. It wasn't long before I'd deteriorated to two regular starters, skipped the salad altogether, an entree, the warm melting chocolate cake for dessert (nothing diet about it!), coffee and had to follow it up with a Sambucca aperitif because my stomach was so uncomfortable! Each day I'd consider skipping that meal, but it would have been in bad form. I mean, we paid for it, the girls expected my attendance and it was all part of the 'fun.' By day five I spent the entire night in the head suffering diarrhea and keeping my cabin mate up as well.
The ports of call were interesting and fun, but of course you don't spend enough time there and the time you do spend is focused on the clock so you're sure to get back to the ship in time! I don't do so well on such a strict schedule. It was a good thing I was there with four other women who wore watches. Otherwise, I'd be writing this blog from somewhere in the Western Caribbean...which wouldn't be such a bad thing. I especially fell in love with Roatan Island, Honduras and a trip back there is in my future. We all agreed on that point.
The ship service was exceptional. Although I couldn't help but have a little bit of a sickening feeling at how hard the staff (mostly from developing countries) work for what I'm sure is very little money. The double shifts, the always being "on", the constant "it's my pleasure" (as they are wiping your butt). I don't know where the cabin steward hides in order to see every time you leave your room, but you could be gone for 30 seconds only to realize you'd forgotten something in your cabin and viola, he'd been there, picked up, changed your towel for the third time that day, put that pointy end on the toilet paper AND the tissue, straightened the chairs on the balcony and left. I never once actually caught him inside the room doing anything. There were just these magical signs that he'd been there. I'd even leave my towel on the rack indicating I'd reuse it (you know, 'green' me likes to pay attention to the environment) and he'd change it anyway. Apparently, he decided it smelled too funky to reuse and I needed a fresh one.
Although the entertainment might not have been overly appealing to our group, I really have no complaints. There were after dinner shows nightly (comedian, Happy Cole, is a must see), a casino, several bars with live music, a dance club, a few shops and even the hot tub on the upper deck til midnight. And if none of that was suitable, there was always the option of wine on our balconies to enjoy while watching the moon reflect off the sea.
Yes, all in all it was a great time. Even though it might not be my favorite form of holiday, I'm glad I was able to muster up the dough and experience the world of cruising and especially spend a week playing with the girls and exploring some of the most fabulous beaches. And now, of course, it's time for the detox cause this bloated feeling ain't just water weight!
The food was as incredible as I feared. I started out slow, making wiser food choices eating salads and fresh fruit as much as possible. At dinner (the formal affairs) I only had the 'spa' (healthy choice) starter of iceberg wedge and tomato, an entree of grilled perch, one glass of red wine and coffee for dessert (that right there is far more than my normal dinner at home). I then upped the anty to the regular starter, a 'spa' starter, entree, wine, 'diet' dessert and coffee. It wasn't long before I'd deteriorated to two regular starters, skipped the salad altogether, an entree, the warm melting chocolate cake for dessert (nothing diet about it!), coffee and had to follow it up with a Sambucca aperitif because my stomach was so uncomfortable! Each day I'd consider skipping that meal, but it would have been in bad form. I mean, we paid for it, the girls expected my attendance and it was all part of the 'fun.' By day five I spent the entire night in the head suffering diarrhea and keeping my cabin mate up as well.
The ports of call were interesting and fun, but of course you don't spend enough time there and the time you do spend is focused on the clock so you're sure to get back to the ship in time! I don't do so well on such a strict schedule. It was a good thing I was there with four other women who wore watches. Otherwise, I'd be writing this blog from somewhere in the Western Caribbean...which wouldn't be such a bad thing. I especially fell in love with Roatan Island, Honduras and a trip back there is in my future. We all agreed on that point.
The ship service was exceptional. Although I couldn't help but have a little bit of a sickening feeling at how hard the staff (mostly from developing countries) work for what I'm sure is very little money. The double shifts, the always being "on", the constant "it's my pleasure" (as they are wiping your butt). I don't know where the cabin steward hides in order to see every time you leave your room, but you could be gone for 30 seconds only to realize you'd forgotten something in your cabin and viola, he'd been there, picked up, changed your towel for the third time that day, put that pointy end on the toilet paper AND the tissue, straightened the chairs on the balcony and left. I never once actually caught him inside the room doing anything. There were just these magical signs that he'd been there. I'd even leave my towel on the rack indicating I'd reuse it (you know, 'green' me likes to pay attention to the environment) and he'd change it anyway. Apparently, he decided it smelled too funky to reuse and I needed a fresh one.
Although the entertainment might not have been overly appealing to our group, I really have no complaints. There were after dinner shows nightly (comedian, Happy Cole, is a must see), a casino, several bars with live music, a dance club, a few shops and even the hot tub on the upper deck til midnight. And if none of that was suitable, there was always the option of wine on our balconies to enjoy while watching the moon reflect off the sea.
Yes, all in all it was a great time. Even though it might not be my favorite form of holiday, I'm glad I was able to muster up the dough and experience the world of cruising and especially spend a week playing with the girls and exploring some of the most fabulous beaches. And now, of course, it's time for the detox cause this bloated feeling ain't just water weight!
Saturday, March 8, 2008
Charmed by Canadian
During the first leg of my flight eastward, I sat next to a Canadian fella. As usually happens when you're practically sitting on some one's lap for several hours, we got to chatting. What's in L.A. for you? Where you coming from? Etc. My flight mate was going Guadalajara, Mexico surfing. He proceeded, then, for the remainder of the flight and for the 2 hours I had during my layover in L.A., to dis America and Americans.
It started out innocently enough. He pointed out that Americans are not well-received when traveling and often pose as Canadians. Yes, this is a true statement in many cases. But I assured him that during my three and a half years of living abroad I was never received with any animosity or aggression due to my U.S. citizenship. As a matter of fact, most people were polite, respectful and helpful...even after making it clear that they were not a fan of our "Chief."
Next he launched into a tirade (that might be a bit of an exaggeration, but not much) about how American surfers where not welcome in their waters. There is surfer protocol and they will drive them out physically. Wow. Sounds pretty serious.
The subject then came to the almighty American dollar...and oh, how disgusting it is that we have so many of them and can go up to Canada and buy up their property with cash! An American, apparently, pulled up in his yacht and bought this guy's house on the beach with cash! We have far too much money to be waiving in these poor Canadians' faces.
Over the course of the night I had learned that this guy was 29, lived and/or traveled all over the world, owns a house on the beach north of Vancouver, B.C., owns a Land rover, a Quad, two motorcycles, a boat, and a snowmobile. I swear if I had asked him if he owned a helicopter he would have told me he had one in storage and one on the roof of his house or something! And he's holding a grudge about American excess? He is the proprietor of Action Jackson Productions where he drives stunt vehicles, mostly for commercials. I thought that sounded like interesting and exciting work. He made it clear that it doesn't pay as much as one would think. Whatever. I was quite honestly pretty exhausted talking to the guy about his toys and money by this point.
Before we were through he shared with me that the Canadian firefighters use American firefighter videos to train them on what NOT to do, Americans have the highest suicide rate in the world, and some other nasty statistic that I can't even remember because this guy was beginning to get on my nerves by now.
I'm not exactly overly patriotic at times. I get very disgusted by our government, our role in global welfare and our wasteful society just to name a few. But listening to this guy...this guy from a comparably wealthy country, from an affluent background, pick and poke and criticize, made me a bit defensive. We aren't all that bad. And we aren't all that bad. It's like picking on my brother. It's okay if I make fun of him, but as soon as someone else chimes in, I run to his aide. I wanted to say "enough already, dude. Give it a rest." Instead, in an effort to keep peace with my neighbor from the north with the prominent chip on his shoulder, I smiled and said "enjoy your surfing trip" and walked to my gate.
Our country definitely has problems. We are aware. But whose doesn't. Does anyone ever say "ours is the most perfect government in the world" or better yet "that country has the best government, let's be like them?" Never. We are also trying to change things with this next election. Can we? (Okay, I am not going to quote Obama here!) Who knows. But hopefully we can make improvements.
I didn't talk at all to the man sitting next to me on the next leg of my journey. I said hello, got out my blanket, took off my sandals and slept.
It started out innocently enough. He pointed out that Americans are not well-received when traveling and often pose as Canadians. Yes, this is a true statement in many cases. But I assured him that during my three and a half years of living abroad I was never received with any animosity or aggression due to my U.S. citizenship. As a matter of fact, most people were polite, respectful and helpful...even after making it clear that they were not a fan of our "Chief."
Next he launched into a tirade (that might be a bit of an exaggeration, but not much) about how American surfers where not welcome in their waters. There is surfer protocol and they will drive them out physically. Wow. Sounds pretty serious.
The subject then came to the almighty American dollar...and oh, how disgusting it is that we have so many of them and can go up to Canada and buy up their property with cash! An American, apparently, pulled up in his yacht and bought this guy's house on the beach with cash! We have far too much money to be waiving in these poor Canadians' faces.
Over the course of the night I had learned that this guy was 29, lived and/or traveled all over the world, owns a house on the beach north of Vancouver, B.C., owns a Land rover, a Quad, two motorcycles, a boat, and a snowmobile. I swear if I had asked him if he owned a helicopter he would have told me he had one in storage and one on the roof of his house or something! And he's holding a grudge about American excess? He is the proprietor of Action Jackson Productions where he drives stunt vehicles, mostly for commercials. I thought that sounded like interesting and exciting work. He made it clear that it doesn't pay as much as one would think. Whatever. I was quite honestly pretty exhausted talking to the guy about his toys and money by this point.
Before we were through he shared with me that the Canadian firefighters use American firefighter videos to train them on what NOT to do, Americans have the highest suicide rate in the world, and some other nasty statistic that I can't even remember because this guy was beginning to get on my nerves by now.
I'm not exactly overly patriotic at times. I get very disgusted by our government, our role in global welfare and our wasteful society just to name a few. But listening to this guy...this guy from a comparably wealthy country, from an affluent background, pick and poke and criticize, made me a bit defensive. We aren't all that bad. And we aren't all that bad. It's like picking on my brother. It's okay if I make fun of him, but as soon as someone else chimes in, I run to his aide. I wanted to say "enough already, dude. Give it a rest." Instead, in an effort to keep peace with my neighbor from the north with the prominent chip on his shoulder, I smiled and said "enjoy your surfing trip" and walked to my gate.
Our country definitely has problems. We are aware. But whose doesn't. Does anyone ever say "ours is the most perfect government in the world" or better yet "that country has the best government, let's be like them?" Never. We are also trying to change things with this next election. Can we? (Okay, I am not going to quote Obama here!) Who knows. But hopefully we can make improvements.
I didn't talk at all to the man sitting next to me on the next leg of my journey. I said hello, got out my blanket, took off my sandals and slept.
Monday, March 3, 2008
Acceptance
After doing some invigorating shoe (sandal) shopping on Saturday, I needed to use the 'ladies' so went upstairs to the lounge at Macy's. On the way out, I saw the sign pointing to the swim suit section. "Oh why not," I asked myself. It'd be nice to have a new cute swim suit for my cruise.
I headed over and perused the racks carefully. Decided if I was going to make the effort of disrobing for one suit, I may as well make it worth while and try on several. Besides, my feet were killing me from my morning session and relaxing barefoot in the dressing room for a while sounded kind of appealing. Question: since when is trying on swim suits a 'relaxing' activity?
Inside the far too brightly lit dressing room I stripped down to my skivvies and applied the first ... well...bits of fabric. That's all a swim suit is: Two triangles strapped onto the breasts with a string and a pair of (usually ill-fitting) underwear. Looking at my body in the harsh lighting I was once again horrified, distraught and more than annoyed with what I saw in the three-way mirror; what I never seem to see in my dimly lit bedroom (I really ought to change my light bulbs, but I seem to prefer to live in denial.) -- cellulite I've always prided myself on not having much of, the tummy that won't flatten, the white sagging breasts that won't perk up no matter how tightly I tie the string around my neck. Instead of lifted breasts, I just get a raw red mark on the back of my neck as the boobs continue to head south with increased persistence.
I've been working out a lot more the past month, watching my diet for the most part, hadn't had a drop of alcohol in over a week (that's a mile stone for me), drinking herbal teas and water and this is the body I'm rewarded with?
I got dressed, put all seven suits back on their hangers and returned them to the racks. Why spend $100 on something that doesn't make me look or feel any better than the crap I already have in my drawers? I called a friend when I got home and relayed my swim suit saga to which she replied, "it's called acceptance."
She's right. Number Eight took me for a really nice meal at the Paragon that night where we shared a cheese plate, and salad, I indulged in a glass of wine, and we each ordered an entre. Sunday, I went to Pilate's and Eight and I walked to the beach through Discovery Park, so I attempted to combat some of the food damage. I can enjoy a nice meal and wine once in a while, eat healthfully overall, get daily exercise, and just wear a super cute cover up over my swim suit, and a pair of sexy sandals! That's acceptance.
I headed over and perused the racks carefully. Decided if I was going to make the effort of disrobing for one suit, I may as well make it worth while and try on several. Besides, my feet were killing me from my morning session and relaxing barefoot in the dressing room for a while sounded kind of appealing. Question: since when is trying on swim suits a 'relaxing' activity?
Inside the far too brightly lit dressing room I stripped down to my skivvies and applied the first ... well...bits of fabric. That's all a swim suit is: Two triangles strapped onto the breasts with a string and a pair of (usually ill-fitting) underwear. Looking at my body in the harsh lighting I was once again horrified, distraught and more than annoyed with what I saw in the three-way mirror; what I never seem to see in my dimly lit bedroom (I really ought to change my light bulbs, but I seem to prefer to live in denial.) -- cellulite I've always prided myself on not having much of, the tummy that won't flatten, the white sagging breasts that won't perk up no matter how tightly I tie the string around my neck. Instead of lifted breasts, I just get a raw red mark on the back of my neck as the boobs continue to head south with increased persistence.
I've been working out a lot more the past month, watching my diet for the most part, hadn't had a drop of alcohol in over a week (that's a mile stone for me), drinking herbal teas and water and this is the body I'm rewarded with?
I got dressed, put all seven suits back on their hangers and returned them to the racks. Why spend $100 on something that doesn't make me look or feel any better than the crap I already have in my drawers? I called a friend when I got home and relayed my swim suit saga to which she replied, "it's called acceptance."
She's right. Number Eight took me for a really nice meal at the Paragon that night where we shared a cheese plate, and salad, I indulged in a glass of wine, and we each ordered an entre. Sunday, I went to Pilate's and Eight and I walked to the beach through Discovery Park, so I attempted to combat some of the food damage. I can enjoy a nice meal and wine once in a while, eat healthfully overall, get daily exercise, and just wear a super cute cover up over my swim suit, and a pair of sexy sandals! That's acceptance.
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